


Gives Me Chills

by DastardlySonya



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Comfort, Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-25 16:18:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2628131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DastardlySonya/pseuds/DastardlySonya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky wants a sandwich- a simple task that is proving far too difficult.  Metal arms and unexplainable chills abound, and his discomfort is only added to when S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent Skye attempts to befriend him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gives Me Chills

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Follow me on tumblr~ http://queen-mcgregor.tumblr.com/

Gives Me Chills

Ever since he had been permanently taken out of kryo-freeze, Bucky Barnes just couldn’t get warm. No amount of layers, blankets, or strange heaters invented by Tony could cut through that lingering icy chill.  
So there he was, shivering in the kitchen of Avenger’s Tower, trying to make a sandwich. It wasn’t going so well. Cabinet doors kept coming off in his metal hand, cartons kept warping in his unintentional death grip, and the fridge handle had been accidentally massacred. The simple quest for food, Bucky realized dismally, had become unnecessarily destructive.  
Another tremor wracked him and the butter knife in his hand buckled. He opened his metal fist and looked at it in dismay. Then, as had become common practice, he threw it away.  
The swinging door opened and closed behind him, and Bucky stiffened. No people were the best kind of people, Bucky maintained. They were fragile. Too fragile, especially when you were a guy hopped up on super serum and still learning how to regulate the use of your mechanical limb design for breaking bones and smashing skulls.  
“Hi,” a female voice said, and Bucky was left with no other choice than to glance over his shoulder.  
“I’m Skye,” the young woman introduced herself, tying her hair back messily. “You must be Bucky. The others said you might be around.” She smiled, extending a hand and closing the gap between them with a few steps. “It’s really good to meet you.”  
Bucky stared down at the offered hand. Flesh and blood, not metal and wires. Breakable, not invincible. His metal fist tensed inadvertently at his side.  
The girl let her hand drop when it became clear Bucky would not accept the handshake. “That’s cool,” she said amiably. “We can start slow.” A thought struck her, and she frowned. “Why are you wearing a blanket?”  
Bucky looked down at the afghan draped over his shoulders. “I’m cold,” he said simply.  
Skye’s frown deepened. “May I?” she asked, gesturing to her own forehead. Reluctantly, Bucky nodded.  
Skye pressed the back of her hand to Bucky’s forehead and hummed sympathetically. “You’re burning up,” she commented.  
Bucky’s eyes widened and darted to her. “What? I’m… what?”  
“You’re sick,” Skye clarified. Her voice took on a sterner, more concerned note. “You need to be in bed.”  
Bucky shook his head. “I’m just cold. Stark said…” He abandoned that attempt as Skye raised an eyebrow. “I’m making a sandwich,” he argued lamely.  
“No sandwich,” Skye declared. “Soup. I’ve got a friend that makes a wicked chicken noodle.”  
Bucky felt alarm creeping up on him at the implication that more non-super humans were roaming the tower. “Friend?” he asked, voice full of concern.  
Skye nodded. “Her name’s Jemma. There are a few of us crashing here for a few days.” She smiled. “Don’t worry about hurting us,” she added, seeming to read his thoughts. “You’re more in control of yourself than you think. And we can take care of ourselves. Now go lay down.”  
Bucky nodded, and had taken a few obedient steps before he even realized he was moving. He stopped in his tracks. “Why are you doing this?” he asked.  
“I want to help,” Skye said simply, already beginning to clean up the sandwich fixings. When Bucky didn’t move, she set down the loaf of bread in her hand and looked at him. “Look, I promise I’ll tell you anything you want to know about me.”  
Bucky opened his mouth to begin questioning her, but Skye continued.  
“…As soon as you go to bed.” She fixed him with a firm look, reminding him of… who? The memory was already fading.  
“Don’t make me get Captain Rogers,” Skye said, putting away the rest of the sandwich fixings. She didn’t glance twice at the mangled knife in the trashcan.  
Bucky’s eyebrows rose slightly. “You know Steve?” he asked, anxiety waning ever so slightly.  
“Getting to,” Skye answered. “Go. Bed.”  
This time Bucky listened. He trudged down a few halls, relieved when he recognized his door. Not getting lost was a definite improvement. He opened the door without hinges ripping out, and let it swing shut behind him. He briefly considered changing into pajamas, but decided it was too much effort; instead crawling into bed fully dressed with blanket still around his shoulders.  
Skye was back a short time later with the promised soup. She placed the tray she carried on his lap, and pulled the chair back from his desk, taking a seat. He glanced down at the food provided, frowning at the mug of something he didn’t recognize.  
Skye explained before he even got a chance to inquire as to its contents. “Compliments of Thor,” she said, eyeing the drink skeptically. “It doesn’t seem… entirely non-toxic, but he swears by it.”  
Bucky lifted the mug, peering at the liquid for a moment. “Can’t be that bad,” he reasoned, and downed a gulp. He choked for a second, and then managed to swallow. “Wrong,” he corrected, setting the mug down at the corner of the tray, as far from him as he could possibly get it. “So wrong. It’s terrible.”  
Skye nodded. “I can’t say I’m surprised. Try the soup.”  
Eager to drown out the taste of Thor’s mystery cure, Bucky delicately picked up the provided spoon and took an equally careful slurp of the soup. As implied, it was very good. He took another spoonful.  
“Who are you, exactly?” he asked between mouthfuls.  
Skye answered without hesitation. “I work for S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent Coulson- you might have heard of him. Mr. Stark needed a little supervision, and Director Fury thought Coulson’s team was cut out for the job. So here we stay.”  
Bucky thought that sounded reasonable. “And before you were here?” he asked.  
“Hunting Hydra.”  
Unbidden, the spoon warped in Bucky’s grip. “Are you sure Fury didn’t send you here to be my babysitter?” he asked bitterly.  
Unfazed, Skye handed him a replacement spoon. “Not yours in particular. I’d say this entire job could be titled as babysitting.”  
Bucky shook his head. “But I’m the weak link. I’m the Hydra Agent.”  
“You’re not a Hydra Agent,” Skye reprimanded him. “I’ve seen first hand what they can do to people. They take your brain, and they melt it down, and then build it up again until there’s no person left behind. They make drones, and they’ve got it down to a science. So whatever happened, whatever you did, it doesn’t matter anymore. Because you’re fighting what they did to you, and you’re getting better.”  
Bucky absorbed that for a moment before speaking again. “Do you really believe that?” he asked.  
Skye nodded. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t. I’m funny that way.”  
Hesitantly at first, Bucky resumed eating. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Why would anyone want a job like yours?”  
“I used to wonder that all the time,” Skye answered honestly. “Pay is only moderate, day to day work is unusually hazardous. But it beats living in a van, that’s for sure. And I get to help people. That feels good, I’m not going to lie.” She looked away from the ceiling where her gaze had drifted and focused once again on Bucky. “I’m actually making a difference now, you know? Things are wild, but so, so worth it. And I get to work with great people. That’s never happened before.”  
It was Bucky’s turn to look concerned. “You never had anyone before? No friends… anyone?” he asked in surprise. Even when all seemed hopeless, he had always had Steve. Even when he didn’t know it. That was a comfort he could imagine existing without.  
“Nope,” Skye said, surprisingly chipper. “Just me.”  
Bucky let the topic go, not wanting to intrude too far. He spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl, and Skye got to her feet. She leaned in, lifting his tray away with a smile, balancing it on one hand. With the other she produced a small black remote from her pocket.  
“Beeper,” she explained before handing it to him. “They’re for emergencies only, but I figure it won’t kill anyone to pass once off to you. Just give the button a push, and I’ll get a text. Five minutes tops I’ll be right here.”  
Bucky nodded. “More new technology,” he commented, inspecting the beeper before setting it on his nightstand.  
Skye smiled. “Get some rest. You’ll feel better in no time.”  
As the door swung shut behind her, Bucky leaned back into his pillow and let out a breath. A person. She had treated him just like any other person.  
He fell asleep with a smile on his face.


End file.
